


Odd Company

by darkblood



Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body mutilation, Brothers chilling in the background being supportive, Fluff, M/M, but still heads up, it’s after the fact, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24638764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkblood/pseuds/darkblood
Summary: Diarmuid finds himself in an unlikely place and is rescued by an equally unlikely hero.
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

He didn’t want to be here. He could have said no to his pushy classmates that insisted on having a little fun after a late class. He could have just walked home straight from class instead of letting himself be ushered into a car owned by one Jason Mazerick, a beaten up Buick that smelled just like its owner. He could have lied and told them he forgot his wallet as the boys pushed him through a door, flashing all their IDs at the bouncer as they entered. He could have escaped at any point before this. He could have stopped it. He _should_ have.

He _really wished_ he had.

It was loud, and more crowded than Diarmuid expected or would have liked. The further they got from the door, the darker the room got, because all the lighting was redirected to the stage. The stage where women with not enough clothing were dancing for crowds of men. 

Diarmuid was certain he wanted to throw up.

“Damn, Monaghan,” gibed one of his classmates as they all bustled to find a spot near the many poles. “You looked the part of a good little Christian boy, but Jesus. It’s like you’ve never seen a boob in your life!”

“Oh chill, Smitty. Not everyone had a dad that had different ladies in the house every other weekend.”

“Dude, wasn’t one of them only a few years older than you?”

“Fuck off, Mazerick.”

“Not until you pay me gas money.”

“You can pull it right out my fat ass if I don’t get a fucking lap dance before I leave.”

“Only if we get to pick the lady.”

Their quarreling continued, but Diarmuid had checked out. He should just turn around. It would be so easy. Just turn around and walk out the door, call a cab, go home. No problem. If only his feet would do what his brain was begging them to do. Why was it so hard to say no to people?

In no time at all, they found a “good spot” with a “good girl.” Drinks were ordered swiftly, with two waters and the rest being beer. Jason was the DD, so he ordered one water for him, and the other for Diarmuid. Jason must have assumed Diarmuid didn’t drink. He would have to thank him later, once he remembered how to talk again. In the meantime, all he could do was nod politely as Jason handed him the drink he got from the unseen waiter. 

He drank as much as he could manage, then held the drink in his hand and tried to focus on how cold it was and how the sweat was dripping down the cup and over his fingers. He closed his eyes to try to help, but the song changed to one with bass deep enough to rattle his ribs, and the woops of his classmates were too much to ignore completely. Defeated, he stared at his class, watching it ripple to the beat, mindful of the movement of the woman’s feet in his peripherals. The boys were calling to her, waving money, getting her attention. They were having a great time. Good for them. Too bad Diarmuid couldn’t say the same. 

“Hey, Beautiful,” Smitty called out to her. “That one’s new. You should break him in so he can calm down and enjoy the ride.” 

The feet moved, eventually landing square in front of him, toes pointing in his direction indicating she was looking at him. He slowly looked up so he could see her face. She was quite pretty, and was giving him a warm smile, with a bit of an arch in her brow, as if she was confused as to why he was there. She got down on her knees, and crawled forward, the boys applauding all the way. Diarmuid kept his eyes on hers. The closer she got, the more concerned her face was towards him, which surprised him. It must have been extremely obvious that he was out of his element. 

She suddenly glanced up, somewhere over his head, then back down at him, and gave him the warmest, kindest smile yet with a small nod, then turned towards the others. 

“I don’t know boys,” she teased the others. “I think I might need a little practice first, if you’re willing to lend a strong guiding hand.”

They were fully distracted when a hand lightly touched Diarmuid’s shoulder, causing him to jump and look up above him, now realizing what the woman was looking at. It was one of the waiters judging by the outfit, with dark curly hair and a beard, causing him to look quite intimidating in this light as he looked down at the boy. Had he done something wrong? Did they think he had a fake ID? Were they going to throw his ID away?! He needed that! 

The man leaned down and did a small wave, instructing Diarmuid to follow him. He bit his inner lip as he stood, still gripping his water glass tightly as he followed the man back towards the bar, then vering off into a corner. Images of him getting beaten up and left there briefly flashed into mind, but ignored them.

He stopped and turned around, causing Diarmuid to stop dead in his tracks. He motioned to the booth to his left, giving an encouraging head nod to urge the boy to sit down. Diarmuid looked between the booth and the man a few times before finally sitting down, sitting on the bench facing the back wall. As soon as he sat down, he noticed the sudden muffling of sound, making this booth much quieter than where he was previously sitting. It was also much cooler since there was no one really over here. 

Once he was fully seated, the man walked away, leaving Diarmuid sitting there awkwardly, unsure of the exact reason he was brought and left here. He watched the man go to the bar that was close by and have a wordless conversation with the woman behind the bar. She nodded, poured something, giving it to him, then looked over towards Diarmuid and gave a little wave. 

He waved back out of instinct, then regretted it because it probably made him look like an idiot. 

The dark haired man returned, this time joining him in the booth on the other side, and he gently pushed the glass towards him. Diarmuid stared for a moment, taking in the man now he had proper lighting. His face wasn’t nearly as intimidating now with the soft glow of the little dangling light of the booth. His brows were raised and his head slightly tilted, patiently waiting for Diarmuid’s next action. 

Diarmuid looked down at the glass he was holding, now realizing it was primarily ice at this point. He released his grip on it, wiping his very wet hands onto his pants before grabbing the new glass and pulling it closer. It … looked like normal pop to him. He sniffed it, and took it as a good sign he couldn’t smell any alcohol in it. The man was still watching him, still patient, gauging his ever move. Diarmuid took a sip.

It was just a Coke. A Vanilla Coke, actually. Nothing else added. 

He relaxed his shoulders that he hadn’t realized he had tensed, and looked back at the man. Diarmuid watched as he produced a very small notebook from his breast pocket, along with a pen, flipped open a page and quickly wrote something down. He then set down the notebook, turned it around, and pushed it towards the boy. Diarmuid leaned forwards to read it.

_Are you alright?_

Diarmuid stared at the note for a bit, then looked up at its owner in confusion. The man took the book back, wrote something new, then put it back where it was.

_You seemed upset when you entered. Making sure you’re okay. Want us to call you a cab or something?_

The kind words on the paper reflected the kindness in the man’s eyes as he waited for a response. Though, Diarmuid was unsure on how to respond. A random worker in a stripclub just asked him if he was okay and if he needed any help getting home. A random, seemingly intimidating at first glance guy was trying to calm him down and get him help. He was at a loss for words. He was also confused by the fact the man was writing everything down as opposed to simply talking to him since this corner of the club was fairly quiet. 

“Th-thank you,” he finally stammered out. He drank some of his pop to help his dried out mouth. “I apologize for making you or you coworkers worry in any way.” 

He gave a tiny bow, and the man gave a tiny smile back. It was small, but it really put Diarmuid at ease. 

“This spot is really nice,” he said quietly. “I’d … like to stay here the rest of the night if that’s alright..”

The man nodded, but then tapped at the notebook again. More specifically the last sentence.

“Oh, um, that’s… it should be fine. I have a … I mean, we carpooled together…”

He watched as the man looked over at his classmates, then back to him. More writing occured. 

_I leave work at midnight. If you need a ride home, just tell me._

“I-I don’t want to impose or anything.”

The man gave the small smile again, put his notebook and pen away, and excused himself from the table. Diarmuid watched him walk away and go back to the job Diarmuid had distracted him from. He looked away and drank his new drink, leaning back into his seat and staring at the wall in thought. This was definitely not how he expected his night to go.

* * *

  
The corner ended up being peaceful. When he felt brave enough, he asked Jason for the keys so he could get his back out of the car, and he ended up doing homework while in the quiet booth. His classmates didn’t seem too insulted that he wasn’t sitting up and center, but they were also getting quite inebriated so it was hard to tell exactly. He got some reading done, and the bearded man came by every once in a while to bring him water. It was honestly nice, considering the circumstances. The closer it got to midnight, the louder his classmates became. It was painfully obvious of their condition when Diarmuid would check on them on the way to the bathroom. The bearded man’s offer became more and more tempting, but that was weird in itself. He didn’t even know the man, it was probably unwise to get a ride home from a complete stranger. Then again, it’s not like he _really_ knew his classmates either. They just happened to all leave Anthro 105 at the same time and sit relatively close to one another in class, and Collin borrowed him a pen once. That was about it in terms of their social relationship. Still … it might be wise to learn at least something about him…

While the bearded man was away from the bar, Diarmuid took his chance and went up to the woman that waved to him earlier. 

“Oh, hey, sweetie,” she said kindly, putting down the classes she was messing it. “You feeling any better?”

“Um, yes, quite. Thank you,” he wasn’t expecting that, but he pressed on. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Um,” he went to point out the man and realized he didn’t actually know his name yet. “The guy who moved me to the corner. Do you know anything about him?”

“You mean David?” she asked, though didn’t expect an answer. “He’s a good guy. Most people are off put by the fact he can’t talk, but he is always nice to me and the ladies. He defends them quite often on roudier nights.”

“He … can’t talk?” 

She shook her head. “I think it was an accident or something? It feels pretty rude to ask.”

“Right.”

“Why do you ask?”

“I just…” he thought about it for a second, then realized it was probably actually a safe idea to tell someone else who he was leaving with, just in case it all turned sour with him dead in a ditch somewhere. He cleared his throat a bit. “He offered me a ride home, and I just want to make sure -”

“He wasn’t gonna kill ya?” she finished.

He shrugged apologetically. She laughed, making him feel a little better.

“Don’t you worry. David’s a gentleman. He’s driven me home a night or two when my truck decides to quit working.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” 

She laughed again. “No problem, kid.”

When he returned to his seat, he ended up fidgeting, packing his stuff away too early, and checking his phone for nothing in particular. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to flag the bearded man named David down, or if he was going to come to him. He also wasn’t sure if what he was doing was comepletely stupid or not. It probably was. Then again, coming to the stripclub to begin with was also stupid. 

He was thinking far too much, for he jumped when a hand reached across and grabbed his now empty glass. It was David. 

“I’ll, uh, yes.” The words fell out of his mouth with a lot of speed and no control.

The man paused and raised a brow. 

“I meant, um, I’d like… a ride … please…”

An odd chuckle was made before he walked away, nodding. Diarmuid took that as a confirmation, and gathered his backpack into his lap, sitting sideways in the booth so he was facing out towards the bar and easily watched the other man finish his rounds. Soon, he disappeared behind a curtain somewhere left of the stage in the shadows. 

Diarmuid checked his phone for the last time and pocketed it. He took a deep breath to calm down, and realized how tired he was. It was a long day. He’d have to make sure to shower when he got home since he had a feeling this kind of place left a certain smell on the skin. 

He was looking down at the floor when boots and jeans came into his vicinity. After looking up and realizing it was the bearded man, he immediately stood up. The man had changed out of his uniform into street clothes and an old leather jacket that had probably seen better days. Suddenly Diarmuid was very aware of the helmet tucked under his one arm. 

Before he could say anything, David signaled him to follow and they were walking out into the parking lot. They walked past all the other cars and rounded the corner to a smaller lot. In the corner was the motorcycle Diarmuid had suspected they were heading to.

“I’ve never ridden on one, before,” he admitted lamely, readjusting his bag. 

The man didn’t seem to pay the comment any mind, and instead fished out his own phone, clicked through it, then passed it to the younger. He took it carefully to make sure not to drop it and realized he was staring at a GPS awaiting a destination address. He hesitated for a moment, trying to gauge if it was wise to give the stranger his exact address, so he instead put in the gas station two blocks away. When he handed back the phone, he waited to see if the man seemed insulted, but he couldn’t really read his face. The phone got tucked into a cradle at the base of the windshield and the man mounted his ride while Diarmuid stared at him. 

He looked up at the boy and turned slightly in his seat to face him better. He used a hand to tap on his bike, pointing out a foothold for him to use to get on. He did so, thrown off a bit by the shocks bouncing with the movement. David looked over his shoulder at him, very close, and grabbed at one of the handles at Diarmuid’s side. He gripped with an exaggerated fashion to most likely encourage him to hold tightly, which he did. When the man looked satisfied, he handed Diarmuid his helmet. 

“I can’t take your helmet,” he tried to protest, but it was pushed into his hands regardless. 

It was awkward to put on, but the man checked to make sure it was on securely before fully facing forward and turning on the bike. Diarmuid jumped slightly at the roar, and the soft buzz it sent into his feet. He gripped tight and tried to keep tabs on all his surroundings as they headed out into the night. 

He wasn’t familiar with this side of town, then again he didn’t stray far from home often. It’s not like he had a car or anything. Best he had was a bike and a bus pass. He wasn’t used to all the lights these buildings had, nor the bustle of drunk people walking home for the night. It left him feeling out of place, so he instead focused on the man in front of him and tried to move as he did as they rode. He imagined it being similar to riding a horse, since they had to lean accordingly with the turns and general movements of the vehicle. There was a small pang of guilt about using his helmet, leaving the man unprotected, but it was kind of amusing to watch his hair go wild in the wind. 

They arrived at the small, currently empty gas station, and the cycle was turned off. The sudden silence accentuated to Diarmuid just how loud the roads there had been. With a bit of difficulty, the helmet was finally removed and the boy had his feet back on stable ground. 

“Thank you very much for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

He received a small bow in response. 

“I … I feel as thought I should repay you somehow,” he started, grabbing for his wallet, but the man put up a hand in protest. He frowned. “Please? You were so kind to me. The woman even said you paid for my Coke. Then you drove me out here, the empty end of town, most likely the opposite way of wherever you were headed. I can’t bring myself to not repay you in some manner.”

David gave a half smile, the kind that was very good at relaxing any tensions Diarmuid was having, then shook his head. As he started putting on his helmet, making it obvious this was the last of their interactions, Diarmuid mildly panicked. 

“W-wait!” he loudly, grabbing onto one of the handles before the man could. Dark eyes looked up at him. “Can I see your phone?”

The man was hesitant, but released his phone from it’s dock and handed it to Diarmuid for the second time that night. He opened up contacts and put his name and number in there. Under the info line, he fumbled with exactly what he should put. 

_The kid -_

No, no, that’s weird. Not a great idea for a guy to be walking around with a phone number belonging to a “kid.” Don’t want people to think he’s a creeper. 

_The guy from the stri-_

Nope. Nope, still weird. Don’t want that to be the sticking point to remember him.

_The guy you helped out that wants to return the favor._

It was long, but it got the point across. 

The man took back the phone and shot him a look. 

“I really do want to return the favor,” he insisted. “Whatever it may be. A-and I mean it! You can’t blow me off. I know where you work!”

Another chuckle, and finally a nod. The phone was placed back into it’s dock and he went to start up the bike again.

“Have a good night!” he quickly spat before the machine roared over him. He gave a little wave, and to his relief, the man waved back. He stayed standing there, watching until the other man drove completely out of site. Finally he headed back home.

The building was a co-living apartment complex, so the kitchen and living room were shared spaces with the other tennents. At this late hour, however, the main rooms were dark, with only small wall plug night lights guiding the way through the halls and up the stairs to his room. He made sure to be quiet as to not disturb the other men here. 

He grabbed a change of clothes from his room, then took a shower, ridding any lingering smell he didn’t want there. 

Back in his room, he grabbed his phone to play with until his hair was dry enough to sleep on and found a message waiting for him from an unknown number. He opened it, seeing only two words.

_David Lane._

A laugh bubbled out of his throat and he rubbed his face. He didn’t know why he was laughing, or grinning down at his phone at such an odd, straightforward text, but he was. He saved the number to his contacts and punched in the man’s name. 

_David Lane._

_A Gentleman._


	2. Chapter 2

“ _You_ were out late last night,” remarked Rua, one of his housemates, causing Diarmuid to still as he poured himself some cereal. 

The other men of the establishment were also there in their large shared kitchen. The complex was home to entirely older men, with Diarmuid being the youngest by at least fifteen years. He never minded it though. All the men were kind to him and treated him as their own son or grandson. So, it was no surprise when they all turned to look at him after that comment.

Diarmuid’s mind started racing, all the while trying to calmly continue getting his measly breakfast ready. “A bunch of classmates roped me into joining them after class last night.”

“Oh really,” piped up Ciaran. He was the proprietor of the house, and tended to act as father to all. “That’s quite out of character for you.”

“Where did you go?” Cathal asked, his curiosity peaked. 

“Some bar downtown,” he answered. It wasn’t a lie. There was alcohol served there. He just left out all the lady bits. 

“Didn’t think you drank,” commented Rua. There were several times he offered to share his odd selection of liquor with Diarmuid, but the boy turned him down every time. 

“I don’t.”

“Was there a Designated Driver?”

“Yes, Ciaran.”

“Did you have fun?” asked Rua. He was smirking over his coffee mug at Diarmuid who was finally sitting at the table eating. 

Diarmuid had to sit and think about it. The adventure at the beginning of the night was horrendous. A bunch of dudes piling into a weed smelling car to go to a strip club was far from his idea of fun, but the night didn’t end badly at all. Once he was moved to the quiet corner, it was almost pleasant. He also got a bit of homework done. It also helped how nice the staff was. Especially David…

“It was okay,” he finally said, then quickly jammed food into his mouth, hoping it was the end of it. 

“Did you meet someone?”

Of course it wasn’t the end of it. That’d be too lovely. 

Rua looked at him expectantly, and all other eyes returned to Diarmuid with the question. Diarmuid made a mental note to hide some of the man’s liquor later. 

“Um … why exactly do you care?” he asked, trying to veer the question away from himself.

“It would be good for you to at least _try_ dating, Diarmuid,” urged Ciaran, in that caring kind of way. “You’ll never know if you like it if you never try.”

“But don’t feel pressured to be in a relationship!” Cathal suddenly added. “It’s not for everyone. Take us for example. I prefer to be alone…”

“Same,” chimed in Rua. “What about you, Ciaran? You don’t have a wife, I know.”

“Not anymore,” the older man answered softly. “She passed some time ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ciaran,” apologized Cathal, looking as though he regretted the conversation going this way. 

“It is alright. She was smiling until the end, and that is all that matters.”

The men shot their landlord looks of sympathy, and gave a moment of silence. 

“Still,” Ciaran broke the silence. “I’m thankful for the time we had together. It is a feeling that doesn’t compare to much else. Thus, I encourage you to at least test the waters, Diarmuid. Perhaps you will find someone who will give you the joy that my wife gave me.”

“Or the realization that the single life is the way to be,” added Rua, raising his mug in a false cheers. 

“Perhaps,” hummed Ciaran. 

“So…” Cathal slowly interjected. “ _Did_ you meet someone?”

Diarmuid let his shoulders collapse in annoyance as he stared at his housemates. “It’s nothing like that, I assure you.”

“So there _was_ someone,” inferred Rua.

He regretted his choice of words immediately. 

“Good for you,” said Ciaran. 

“Come on,” whined Diarmuid. “I just said it wasn’t like that.”

“Did you get a number?” Diarmuid stalled long enough for Rua to snort. “He got a number. You dog, you.”

Diarmuid ran his hands over his face and into his hair. “How many times do I gotta say it’s not like that?”

“... is she cute?”

“Cathal.”

“Sorry.”

“I won’t lie. I wanna meet them,” said Rua as he stood up to wash out his mug.

“There is no _them_!”

“If you do bring someone by, I would like some notice to make sure the place is clean and everyone behaves.”

“I usually behave...”

“I wasn’t talking about you, Cathal.”

“Hey!”

At this point, Diarmuid’s face was against the table with embarrassment. He heard Rua chuckle, then felt the man tap the back of his chair.

“Sorry, kid. You’re just too easy. Best of luck to you, though,” he said and then exited the kitchen, most likely to get ready for work. 

Cathal seemed to take this as a sign to leave as well, for it was soon just Diarmuid and Ciaran in the kitchen together. The young’un slowly looked up, most likely with a red mark on his forehead from the table, as Ciaran patiently looked back. 

“Have much for homework this weekend?”

Finally. A change of topic. 

“Just some readings, and small papers on interpreting the meanings. I already did the majority of the reading last night, so I should be able to spit out those essays fairly quickly.”

He resumed eating his cereal as Ciaran finished his coffee and his newspaper. Once Diarmuid finished, he was quick to start washing his dishes. As he did so, Ciaran soon stood beside him to dry the dishes to put them away.

“The lawn care gentlemen I contract sent someone new a few days ago and mowed over my bleeding hearts bush. They compensated me, thankfully, and apologized for the error. Would you mind lending me a hand tomorrow to plant the new one? I plan on purchasing it later today.”

“Of course,” Diarmuid answered effortlessly. He would never turn down Ciaran when he asked for help. 

“Thank you, Diarmuid,” he said, and gave his shoulder a pat before they went their separate ways, each to their own room.   
  


* * *

At 10:30, about halfway through his essay, he felt his phone rumble against the bed. He picked it up without looking, eyes still glued to his laptop screen, unlocked it with one hand, and finally looked once he finished the sentence he was on. 

**_Message Thread: David Lane_ **

_What kind of food do you like?_

Diarmuid blinked a few times, and reread the message even more times. 

_Uh.. I don’t know. Why do you ask?_

He didn’t get to stare at his computer for very long before his phone went off again. The man was a very fast texter. 

_Like sandwiches?_

_Sure_

An image came next, picturing a map with a pin in it, right at the gas station where he had dropped Diarmuid off the night before. 

_See you at 11:30._

He saved his essay, then closed his laptop to stare freely at his phone screen. 

Was he just asked out on a date?

No. No, that can’t be. Rua put weird thoughts in his head, he’s just overthinking it. He _is_ overthinking it. The man probably wants to get that repayment out of the way, and the easiest way to do that is to pay for lunch. His classmates did it all the time.

Still…

Diarmuid looked down at his current attire, flannel bottoms and an old high school T Shirt he refused to wear in public. He was definitely going to need to change. He just needed to figure out what exactly he was going to change into.

He should at least attempt to look decent … just in case … 

* * *

  
Since he wasn’t sure how the day was going to unfold, Diarmuid removed his school supplies from his backpack, filled it with basics like phone and wallet, and tried his best to leave the building unseen. He really wasn’t looking forward to dealing with more torture from the older men. Didn’t feel like trying once again to say that he wasn’t going on a date. 

He wasn’t. This was not a date. It’s not. 

...right?

He tried to be there 15 minutes early due to nerves, but David was already there propped up by his stationary motorcycle that was parked next to the building. The people who walked past him to enter the building gave the man a wide berth. Diarmuid felt the slight sting of annoyance in him, but ignored it. The man was messing with his phone, quickly writing something from the looks of it, but raised his head when Diarmuid got within ten feet of him. David gave him a small half smile, and Diarmuid smiled back out of reflex. 

The man pushed off his bike and held out his phone to Diarmuid. His smaller hands took the phone, giving an awkward partial bow since it still felt weird to simply keep taking the man’s phone from him. He looked down to read the message he now realized was what David must have been writing earlier. 

_Are you allergic to anything?_

Diarmuid looked up and shook his head as he handed the phone back to his owner. The quiet man nodded, taking his phone in one hand while pushing his helmet into Diarmuid’s chest with his other. 

“O-oh! You don’t need to do that. I brought my own helmet today!” he said, and fished his bike helmet out of his backpack. 

David looked at the helmet, then at him, then the helmet again, then let out a sudden chuckle, which he quickly coughed away. He bemusedly nodded, and put on his own dark helmet as Diarmuid put on his little white helmet. It wasn’t exactly high speed road material, but it was better than nothing, and he did feel bad about taking the other man’s safety gear. Once David was sure Diarmuid was safe in place, they headed out, back towards the more crowded side of town. 

They eventually stopped at the end of a fairly crowded street in the part of town Diarmuid once again didn’t recognize since it wasn’t anywhere near his home or his school. Once they dismounted, Diarmuid put his helmet in his bag and offered to do the same for David’s helmet, but the man held up a hand and shook his head. They soon walked off of that drag, behind the row of buildings to reveal a whole different strip of shops hidden between the blocks. While Diarmuid was perplexed on how anyone was supposed to find these shops, he blindly followed his companion past a few buildings and through a door into a fairly retro styled food joint. While the color palette of the place was muted, the furniture reminded him of that from the sixties. 

The woman behind the counter gave them a nod and smile as they entered, showing she acknowledged their presence. David was already studying the menu on the wall above her, so Diarmuid followed his example. The place appeared to be some sort of sub shack. After a moment, he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and a phone presented in front of him.

_Know what you want?_

Diarmuid hummed and nodded. “Would you like me to order for you?”

Apparently the question had been unexpected, for he blinked a few times before a nod and half shrug were given. He messed with his phone, then handed it to Diarmuid with his order already typed out on the screen. 

The woman was patient as he gave both their orders, nodding and double checking to make sure everything was correct. 

“Will these be together or separate?” she asked, looking between the two of them. 

“Together,” he answered as he fished his wallet out of his backpack. 

She paused when she looked over his shoulder. “He seems to want separate.”

Diarmuid whipped his head around to see the other man grabbing his own wallet to get cash out of it. That through Diarmuid for a loop. Why the hell was David trying to pay for his own meal. Wasn’t this how Diarmuid was supposed to pay him back? Wait, so it was a date? No, no, that’s ridiculous. Curse Rua for getting the idea lodged in his head.

“Together,” Diarmuid said again, slapping down his card onto the counter and sliding it towards her. “And don’t let him pay.”

The woman laughed lightly and nodded as she took his card to run the charge. Diarmuid stayed facing her the whole time, feeling too embarrassed now to turn around to see his companion’s reaction. Once the transaction was complete, she gave them a number and empty cups for pop. Diarmuid thanked her and finally turned to David to pass both his cup and his phone to him. Granted, he did so in an awkward manner as his hands were mostly full, but nothing was dropped during the handoff. 

It was Diarmuid’s turn to be the leader, with David following behind him as they both filled their cups and relocated to a table. They barely had enough time to get comfy when a different girl came out with their orders, thanked them, and disappeared, leaving the two men alone. 

Now that David put his jacket to the side on top of his helmet, Diarmuid was suddenly very aware the man was wearing a vneck. 

He also saw a scar peeking out from his collarbone. 

“So,” he forced himself to talk to stop staring. “Do you work tonight?”

David shook his head and typed something into his phone, then pushed it towards Diarmuid as he started to dig into his sub.

_I don’t work weekends. It’s their busiest time, so they have 2 real bouncers on duty._

“Oh,” he simply said, and took a bite out of his own sub. So he wasn’t just a waiter, he was a part-time bouncer, too. Though he did recall the bartender saying he protected the women now and then. He really was a gentleman. “What do you do on the weekends, then?”

David slowed his chewing as he thought, then, instead of typing on his phone, he merely shrugged and continued eating. 

Diarmuid sort of laughed to himself. “Yeah, I don’t do much either.”

Small talk was not coming to him, so they remained silent as they ate. Diarmuid found it a bit unnerving, but David seemed relaxed, so perhaps Diarmuid was thinking too much again. Then again, the man was a mute, he was used to not talking. 

He’d never met a mute before. He wondered how the man came to be that way.

“Do you know sign language?” he ended up wondering aloud as he crumpled up his garbage. 

David raised an eyebrow, then looked down and away before shaking his head no. 

Diarmuid nodded to himself. “Is it hard? You know, communicating with people, then?”

The man raised a shoulder, then lowered it, looking somewhere around Diarmuid’s right elbow. 

“Sorry,” said Diarmuid. “I tend to talk a lot. Feel free to tell me to shut up if you want.”

It was David’s turn to laugh to himself through his nose. He looked Diarmuid in the eyes and shook his head no again. 

Despite his large and gruff looking appearance, it was the softness in his eyes that told Diarmuid the man was a good person. He wasn’t quite sure why, but when they looked upon him, they set Diarmuid at ease. 

“Well,” he started, suddenly feeling more relaxed. “The day is still young. Where would you like to go next?”

David’s eyebrows perked up at the question. He slowly gave his half smile and a shrug. 

Diarmuid hummed as he thought. “Oh, do you like movies? There’s one that I’ve been meaning to see, but it feels weird to go to the theater alone, you know?”

The man nodded and started grabbing his things, so Diarmuid hastily did the same. It wasn’t long before they were back on the bike and on their way to the mall where the theater was located. They locked their helmets in a locker, bought their tickets, and ended up getting a bucket of popcorn to share, something Diarmuid hadn’t done in a long time. 

The theater wasn’t very crowded, so they were able to sit anywhere they wanted. It also meant it wasn’t very loud in there, which let Diarmuid hear David better. He didn’t say a word, or course, but every now and then he’d chuckle, or hiss through his teeth, or sigh. It was the closest that Diarmuid was going to get to hearing his voice, and from what he’s heard thus far, he sounded as kind as his eyes said he was. 

The movie was over faster than Diarmuid realized. So was their day out. It felt far too soon to be back at the little gas station. 

“That was much more fun than I have on most Saturdays,” he laughed as he dismounted and removed his helmet. “I typically just read a book or something. It was fun to get out of the house.”

David removed his helmet so he could look at Diarmuid properly, showing him a small smile, conveying that he must have enjoyed the day as well. At least, that’s what Diarmuid hoped it meant. His thoughts were confirmed though, when the man typed something into his phone and held it up for Diarmuid.

_Wanna hang out next Saturday?_

A smile crept onto Diarmuid’s face. “Absolutely.”

The smile on David’s face grew, and Diarmuid could only stare.

David gave a nod and put on his helmet before his bike roared back to life. Diarmuid waved goodbye, and the man waved back as he drove off. Diarmuid watched him leave until he was out of site, holding his little bike helmet against this chest. 

He wondered if this warm feeling was the kind of joy Ciaran was referring to.


End file.
